


Lipstick And High Heels

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Makeup, Sex Work Role Play, blowjob, lap dance, lap riding, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 14:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14875458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: For a gag, Jack puts on some makeup.It gives Mark some... ideas.





	Lipstick And High Heels

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a sex worker, and have never done sex work. While I mean no offense with this writing, if I did get something wrong, please do not hesitate to tell me, and I will do my best to fix it. It was looked over by a friend of mine, but again, if you think it needs something changed, I will do my best to do so!

"Wow," said Mark, and he was looking at Jack, his expression... surprisingly unreadable.

"I know," said Jack, and he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's, uh, it's a bit much."

Jack was wearing makeup.

He wasn't just wearing _some_ makeup either - he had a whole face on, complete with lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, blush... the whole nine yards.

And Mark was blushing.

"I think it looks very nice," Mark said, and he cleared his throat. "What's the occasion?"

"... decided to do a Let's Play," Jack said, and yeah, he was blushing. "Like the one you did, with the make up, only when I saw how bad it looked, I thought I'd check to see if I could do it right."

He was rubbing the back of his neck, and he was aware, distantly, that he was blushing so hard that his heart was thudding in his ears.

Why was he even so embarrassed?

Fucked if he knew.

"I can get behind that," Mark said, and he was smiling at Jack in a... slightly nervous manner.

Jack didn't entirely understand it, but then again, he didn't always understand the goings on in his own head, let alone Mark's.

"If you get behind it, you won't be able to see the makeup," Jack said, and he was grinning.

Mark groaned like he was in pain, and he prodded Jack in the side.

"You're the worst, you know that, right?"

Jack leaned in, and he gave Mark a big, smacking kiss on the cheek, leaving a deep purple lipstick print.

"I do my best," he told Mark, his tone cheerful.

Mark gave a well and truly heartfelt groan.

"I'm gonna have to wash off before I start filming," Mark grumbled, but he looked pleased.

"Washing is good for you," Jack said. "Think of it as me doing a little bit of a public service."

"What do you mean, a public service?"

"You'll be fresh faced and bushy tailed for the rest of the day," said Jack, and he batted his eyelashes.

He had on so much makeup that he looked... well, he felt something.

Fucked if he knew what it was.

But as he walked off, he was subtly aware of the way that Mark was looking at his butt.

Not that it was that... new, but still.

There was that little shiver of anticipation, of knowing that he was being seen and appreciated.

He licked his lips, and he willed his boner to go down, so he could take a few pictures.

* * *

"Have you ever... you know, done that kinda thing before?"

At dinner that night, Mark's voice was... casual.

Almost too casual.

It was the kind of casual that one usually associates with someone trying just a _bit_ too hard.

"What kinda thing?"

"The, uh... the makeup," said Mark.

"Not, like, to look good," said Jack. "I've done it as a joke before, and my sisters used to, you know, put me in a dress or do my makeup sometimes, but that's kinda just... what sisters do.

"Is it? I wouldn't know."

Mark was shifting in his seat, still.

The anxiety was beginning to bleed over to Jack, goddamn it.

"What's up?"

"Well," said Mark, and he cleared his throat. "Well."

"Well?"

"Well," said Mark, and his eyes were on his plate. "I was thinking you were very good at it."

"Thanks," said Jack, and he grinned. "I looked up tutorials."

Mark snorted.

"Of course you did," he said, and he sounded fond. 

Jack grinned at Mark.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're someone who always has to make sure that you're doing something the right way," said Mark. "At least, when it comes to certain things."

"I mean," said Jack, "fair enough. I'm willing to cop to that."

"Cop to that," Mark said, his voice deadpan. "You gonna tell me how they'll never take you alive, copper?"

"Different genre," said Jack.

"I forgot, you were the film buff who knew everything," Mark said, and he waggled his eyebrows and knocked the ash off of an imaginary cigar.

It took Jack a minute, but then he was cackling - full on cackling, practically face first into his pasta.

"You just did a Groucho Marx impression," Jack gasped.

"Well, yes," said Mark. 

"You should have done a... you should have done a Groucho _Mark_ impression," wheezed Jack, and then he was leaning back into his chair again, and laughing harder, laughing so hard that there were tears tracking down his face.

It wasn't even _funny_! 

It wasn't a good Groucho impression!

So... why was Jack laughing so hard?

Sometimes, really random shit is just... really funny, even if it's not, in fact, that funny. 

He was still gasping, as Mark gave him a worried look.

"You sure you're okay?"

Jack gave an awkward thumbs up.

"Well... okay...."

Jack was still snickering to himself, as he took a bite of his food.

"But yeah," said Mark, and he cleared his throat. "You, uh, you... you looked really nice."

"You really think so?"

"Oh yeah," said Mark. "It was... it was nice."

"I thought I looked a bit... you know, lady of the evening, with all that on."

Mark snorted.

"Lady of the evening?"

"Not, like... a real sex worker," said Jack, "since we know actual sex workers, and most of them don't look... like that. But the... the idea of it, you know?"

Mark nodded slowly.

"Kind of like the idealized bimbo?"

"Nah, bimbo has its own... connotations," said Jack.

"Does it?"

"Oh yeah."

"Wouldn't you be a himbo, anyway?"

Now Mark was looking thoughtful, and Jack was blushing.

... it was weird to have this much knowledge about something like this, but fuck it. 

He... liked to know stuff.

Even if that stuff was just porn tropes.

"Nah," said Jack. "Because, y'know, a himbo, it's kind of a different category. They mean different things."

"Huh," said Mark. "Didn't realize there was so much nuance in weird fetish porn."

"There's usually nuance in everything, if you look hard enough," said Jack. 

"Fair enough," said Mark. "But I don't think you looked too "lady of the evening" or whatever."

"No?"

"I mean," said Mark, and he was leaning back again, his expression thoughtful, "you might have been all tarted out and whatnot -"

"It is _weird_ to hear you say 'all tarted up,'" said Jack. 

"Why?"

"It's such a... not American way of speaking," said Jack. 

"And I come off as that American?"

"You come off as pretty fucking American."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or flattered," said Mark.

Jack grinned a bit in spite of himself, and he reached out taking Mark's hand in his own, squeezing Mark's fingers.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel... weird by doing that," he said. "it's not like I'm trying to do, like... gender stuff or whatever. I'm happy with myself, as I am. More or less."

"More or less?"

"I mean," said Jack, "there's always room for improvement, isn't there?"

Mark snorted.

"You're cute," he told Jack.

Jack rolled his eyes, and he prodded Mark with his foot.

"Do you like seeing me in makeup?"

"I mean," Mark said, and he cleared his throat. "I mean."

"Hmm?"

Jack half wished he hadn't washed all of that off, although... well, okay, it was kind of hard to eat with a full face of makeup.

... he assumed, at any rate.

He'd never actually tried to do it before.

But maybe just a little bit of something or other around his eyes, or maybe some lipstick....

Mark was blushing.

"You'd look very pretty," Mark said. 

"You don't think I already look pretty?"

Jack was teasing, partially just because he could. 

"I mean," said Mark, and oh, wow, he was _really_ blushing, "I think you could look... even prettier."

"What kind of even prettier?"

"The kind that's... you know... more...."

"More...?"

Jack made a 'go on' motion with one hand. 

"More... feminine. Or more... put on."

"You don't think this is put on, darling?"

Jack put a drawl on the last word, more for the look of it than anything else.

Mark snorted, and he looked amused.

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"You sound like a certain kind of drag queen."

"I was _going_ for a panto dame," Jack said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

"... what?"

"Never mind," said Jack. "Lots of... cultural whatsit."

"What is it?"

Jack snorted.

"You're a brat, you know that?"

"I mean," Mark said, "I'm not gonna argue with that.'

"'cause you know you'll lose?"

"You can think that, if you want."

Jack sighed, getting more comfortable in his chair.

"So you'd like me to do... you know, more feminine stuff?"

"I would," said Mark, and he was blushing. "But maybe, like... playing a role."

"You're saying me doing feminine stuff isn't me playing a role?"

"I mean, I'm not arguing with that either," said Mark quickly, and he looked... nervous.

Huh.

"So what are you saying?"

"I guess I'm just saying that, uh, I think it'd be fun if maybe you played... you know, a specific _kind_ of feminine. Versus just... yourself being feminine." 

"So you see my regular self being kind of feminine?"

"No, that's not... that's not what I'm saying. Unless that's a thing that you're trying to do, in which case, uh... I mean...."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

He was trying not to start laughing.

It was taking a lot of effort at this point.

"Dig up," he told Mark.

"I don't even know where I'm digging," said Mark, and he was wearing a slightly defeated expression.

"Well," said Jack, "consider this me offering you a rope. Tell me what kind of thing you'd be interested in, and I'll think about it."

"You will?" 

"I mean," Jack said, "I can't promise that I'll do it, but I can at least express an interest in it?"

"Part of the problem," Mark said, and he gave a gusty sigh, "Is that I feel... all guilty about it."

"Why do you feel guilty about it?"

"Because I worry I'm being... gross," said Mark.

Of course Mark would worry about that.

Mark was neurotic as hell. 

It didn't always show through, but when it did... oh, it did. 

"So what are you so worried about, gross wise?"

"... being disrespectful."

"To who?"

"Well, like you said. We've got friends who are sex workers. And if I've got this whole... fantasy, where you're being… not necessarily a sex worker exactly, but, well...."

"You have a whole fantasy about me being a sex worker or a lady of the evening or whatever, after I had a full face of makeup on for maybe an hour, earlier in the day?"

Jack didn't mean to sound quite so... surprised. 

He wasn't used to someone getting interested in something that quickly.

Then again, what did he know?

He'd built on little half seen bit of things before. So why not Mark?

"I mean, it's not fully formed," said Mark, and he was blushing, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I had the image of you...."

He trailed off, and he was blushing, trying to get his words out right. 

"Mmm?"

"I had the image of you, um... on your knees. On your knees, in, uh, a really revealing dress, like, I could see straight down it. And you were wearing a full face of makeup, and then you were... you were, I was... I was holding a hundred dollar bill in front of you, just begging you to take it so that you’d even _consider_ touching me, and you were... you were on your knees, did I mention that?"

"You might have," said Jack, his tone dry.

He was trying not to laugh.

It wasn't even that the fantasy was that funny or that weird - he'd definitely heard weirder shit before. 

It was just... Mark looked so _sheepish_ about it, as if he expected Jack to just stand up and start shouting out of nowhere.

"Right. So, uh, you're also wearing a full face of makeup -"

"You mentioned that already, too," Jack supplied.

"I'm trying to bare an embarrassing sexual fantasy," Mark said. 

"It isn't like it's some deep seated thing," said Jack. "You only got the idea for it a few hours ago, didn't you?"

"I mean," said Mark, "maybe it tapped into some long buried experience?" 

"A long buried experience where you... had sex with a lady of the evening who had a lot of makeup on?"

"... maybe I saw a movie or something, I don't fuckin' know," said Mark, and now he looked slightly amused. "Sorry. I'm... being a dumbass, aren't I?"

"I think you're overthinking shit a bit," said Jack, and he grinned. "It's all good. I think it's all good, at least."

"Thanks," said Mark. 

"So you want me to paint my face up like a tart out of a certain class of movie and wear a low cut dress?"

"I mean," Mark said, and he swallowed.

His throat clicked.

"You mean?"

Jack kept his gaze on Mark, and Mark blushed so hard that his ears were red.

"I mean," Mark said, and he cleared his throat. "I mean, uh... I mean that I might be interested in, uh... in that kind of thing."

"In me painting myself up like -"

"Yes, in all of that," Mark said hurriedly. "If you'd be up for it, I mean."

"I'd at least be up for trying it," Jack said, his tone thoughtful. "It couldn't hurt to try, could it?"

"Probably not, no," said Mark, and then he looked down at his food, where his food had gone cold. "So... are we gonna do it?"

"Sure," said Jack. "Sure. Let's do it."

"I like... I mean, I have other... other bits of it," said Mark, and he looked a bit like he wanted to die.

"Are you okay?"

It was hard not to be concerned.

Sometimes, Jack forgot just how... neurotic Mark was. 

It was easy to - he was so good at putting on the goofball facade, and who was Jack to argue with it? 

"Yeah," said Mark.

"Well, okay," said Jack. "But you look a little bit like you might pass out."

"I'm not going to pass out," Mark reassured Jack. "Let me just... think about it a bit, okay?"

"Okay," said Jack. "No pressure, regardless. Okay?"

"... okay," said Mark, and he shot Jack a grateful smile. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I dunno. Being so awkward."

Jack shrugged.

"Could always be worse," Jack said, his tone philosophical.

"Yeah?"

"You could have, like, an actually really weird fantasy."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"I dunno. Like... cake farting or something."

"Nobody out there is into cake farting," Mark said, in a tone with some authority.

"Are you so sure of that?"

"Cake farting is like the fucking... vore of fetishes. Anyone who likes it likes it ironically."

"There are people who like vore in a non-ironic kind of way," Jack pointed out.

"No way," said Mark. "It's so...."

"I mean, I can kinda get the appeal," said Jack. "Anyway, what's the point of participating in a fetish, if not for the fun of it?"

"... kink irony?" 

"Nobody is that ironic."

"Maybe there's kink hipsters out there," said Mark. 

Jack snorted. 

"What's the point of doing a kink, if not to get your rocks off in some way."

"I don't want my rocks to be _off_ , thank you very much," said Mark.

Jack snorted.

"Oh my god," said Jack. "You're so fuckin' corny."

"It's part of my appeal," said Mark.

"If you say so," said Jack.

"... you like me, at any rate," said Mark, and his expression looked... nervous.

"Well, duh," said Jack, and he grinned. "I won't get tarted up for just anyone, y'know that, right?"

"I'm touched that you're willing to get tarted up for me," said Mark. 

"I'd do a lot of things for you," said Jack, and for once, his voice was utterly sincere.

It could be hard, to be this level of open, this vulnerable, but... fuck it. 

What was the point of being with someone - what was the point of doing _anything_ \- if not for the sheer enjoyment of it?

... well, okay, no, there were lots of other reasons for doing stuff a certain way, but still.

it was the principle of it.

Jack wasn't going to do... duty kink, or duty sex, and doing shit for the irony of it sounded an awful lot like work.

But doing something to make Mark happy, even if it was more Mark's kink than Jack's... well... Jack didn't mind too much.

It wasn't like he was being asked to do anything particularly unpleasant. 

Put on some makeup, put on a skimpy dress, do a bit of role play?

"How about you tell me more about this fantasy of yours?"

"Well," said Mark, "well. Um."

"Um?"

"I'm just gathering my wits," Mark said, and he was grinning a little bit in spite of himself. 

"That might take a while," Jack fired back. 

"You're a jerk," Mark said, but he looked like he was trying not to start laughing.

"I know, right? It's almost as if I've been on the internet for fuck knows how long."

"But anyway," said Mark, and he cleared his throat. "As I was saying."

"As you were saying," Jack agreed.

"So in my fantasy...."

* * * 

Jack stood in the mall, and he shifted from foot to foot, staring into the makeup store.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

Well, maybe not... right-right.

How was he supposed to do it right-right, anyway? What would that mean?

Was he overthinking this?

... yes.

Yes, he was.

Maybe he was just as neurotic as Mark was, after all. 

But fuck it.

He'd bought makeup before, and he hadn't been embarrassed about it then, so he wasn't going to be embarrassed about it today. 

He was a grown ass adult, with his own money.

He could do what he wanted with it, and nobody could stop him.

Although.... gaah. 

This was still nerve wracking.

Probably not nearly as nerve wracking as he was making it out to be, but... well, things were always more difficult when you were planning them, weren't they?

So he shoved his hands in his pockets, and he walked across the threshold and into the store.

There wasn't a thunderclap, or some great crowd shouting "Get out!" or anything like that.  
The people working at the store were polite, and they helped him find what he was looking for, which was all he needed, really. 

It was pretty much painless.

Like it had been the first time he'd made these purchases, actually. 

He'd bought makeup before - he'd bought makeup, waxing strips, the whole shebang, and he hadn't been half as nervous.

So why was he so nervous this time?

... because it wasn't for a gag or a joke.

Because it was just for him to fuck around with his boyfriend, and he was worried that people would see that on his face.

But.. fuck it.

Everyone bought stuff to do stuff with.

... and that was eloquent, wasn't it?

He was grinning a bit at himself, as he made his way into the store.

Okay.

Buy a dress.

Buy some panties.

Maybe stockings?

He'd be good.

He had this.

He totally had this.

* * * 

He didn't so much have this, as it turned out. 

Because figuring out your own size in a dress was fucking confusing, and he was blushing by the time he'd gone up to the one saleslady, although she'd been very nice about it.

He hadn't tried anything on - he wasn't that brave - but she's at least... told him how it worked. 

More or less.

And he had panties, and he had stockings, and he was going to look fucking amazing.

... hopefully.

Well, even if he didn't, this would be good for a laugh, right?

They'd have some kind of fun with this, even if it was just the two of them laughing about it.

Because fuck it. 

He was going to dress up in a skimpy dress and a thong and the whole nine yards, and he was going to act like a character in a certain kind of movie, and then he was (hopefully) going to get fucked within an inch of his life.

Who doesn't love being fucked within an inch of their life, really?

Apart from people who weren't into sex, or being fucked, or... well... okay, maybe Jack was overthinking things a bit again.

* * * 

Jack had to go to a specialty store, to buy the shoes.

His feet were just a little too big to fit into regular high heels, and his brevity in regards to buying them ended there.

It was... a bit embarrassing, walking into a fetish store like this, but fuck it.

He smiled at the guy behind the counter.

The guy smiled back. 

"I'm, uh, I'm looking for shoes," said Jack. "Specifically of a specific type."

He was repeating himself. 

Oops.

"What kind of specific type?"

Jack outlined what he was thinking of.

The guy, to his credit, didn't make fun of him.

Then again, this was probably normal.

Instead, he ushered Jack towards the section that was full of shoes, and... helped him try on shoes.

It really was that simple, wasn't it? 

So Jack.. bought a pair of shoes, tucked the box into his bag, and then he was off home.

* * *

"So for the scene," said Jack, "do you want me to shave?"

"What do you mean by "shave," exactly?"

Mark was blushing.

"Well," said Jack, "in English, shaving generally means to remove something via the use of a razor."

"Oh my god," said Mark, and he was looking something like amused and something like exasperated. "You know what I meant."

"... actually, not so much," said Jack, and it was his turn to be sheepish.

"Are you going to shave your face, your legs, your chest, your... everything?"

"I was just thinking my legs," said Jack, "maybe my pubes, since, y'know, I'll be in panties and stockings."

"Maybe shave those spots, if you think they'd make it simpler? But it’s up to you, obviously.”

"It's your fantasy, duder, not mine."

"I can't believe you just called me 'duder'," said Mark. 

"It's on brand, at least," Jack pointed out.

Mark just sighed heavily.

Jack grinned, and took a bite of his dinner.

* * * 

Jack shaved his legs

That took some time - it was simpler to wax his legs, but _that_ was painful, and what was the point of doing that if he wasn't going to set up a video, and... it was just simpler this way.

He did like having silky smooth legs, admittedly.

Shaving his pubes was... awkward, and weird, but he got it done eventually.

He liked the look of it, even if it was... well, a bit weird, to see himself without hair.

It wasn't that he was that attached to his body hair - he'd even shaved it before!

It was just... when you were used to seeing yourself a certain way, it got a little weird to see things different.

But variety was the spice of light, or something like that.

Jack sighed, and then he picked up the panties.

Okay.

Moment of truth.

Time to see if he could pull this off. 

* * *

Jack sauntered into the kitchen.

Saunter was the right word, even - he didn't do it often, but he did have it in him to at least try.

He was, admittedly, wobbling more than a little bit on his high heels, but... fuck it.

Mark had been about to take a drink of water.

Mark put down his drinking glass.

"Hi," said Jack, and he pitched his voice up.

Just a little, mind you - not like the end of his outro, or anything like that.

But... just enough that it would probably be noticeable, at least to Mark, who knew him so well.

"Hi," said Mark.

"This place is... kinda dead isn't it?"

Jack looked around the small kitchen, and imagined he was in a dingy bar.

"Y-yeah," said Mark, and he licked his lips. "What kind of... what were you thinking?"

"How about you come keep me company?"

Jack fluttered his eyelashes - all plumped up with mascara. 

He had made his face up like before, but had actually paid attention to color choice this time. 

He had thought he looked pretty good, if a little weird.

He knew, intellectually, that makeup was for everyone, and anyone could do whatever they wanted with their face and their clothes.

But… well… some part of him still felt a little weird, wearing all of this get up, when he was standing there with a beard and a hairy, hairy chest. 

And Mark… Mark was looking over at him like he was a four course meal on legs. 

“I’d… be up for some company,” said Mark, and then he was… wrapping an arm around Jack’s middle, and Jack leaned in.

“Even… pricey company?”

Jack tried to sound delicate.

“I can live with pricey company, as long as it’s with _you_ ,” said Mark, and he leaned in for a kiss.

Jack dodged it, and stepped forward, towards the couch.

It would do for a pretend lounge, right?

* * *

Mark sat on the couch, and then he patted his lap.

He was holding a hundred dollar bill in one hand.

Where had Mark gotten _that_?

… well, the bank, obviously, but… still

“How about… how about a lap dance?”

… a lap dance. 

Crap. 

Jack didn’t… really know how to do that.

But he could try, in theory.

He took the money between his lips - there would be lipstick on it now.

And then he tucked it under a strap of his dress, and he… tried to listen to music in his head, as he wriggled his hips, resting his hands on the back of the chair.

He moved his chest like he’d seen strippers do, and he turned around, giving Mark a view of the lone line of his back, then of the curve of his ass.

“God,” Mark said, and he was… reaching out. 

Jack slapped that hand away.

“That’s another hundred,” Jack said, and his voice cracked.

He was looking over his shoulder at Mark, and Mark was looking back at him, brown eyes wide.

“What happens if I give you a thousand dollars?”

“I’ll let you… I’ll blow you,” said Jack.

“Done,” said Mark, and he was digging through his pocket with one hand, undoing his jeans with his other hand.

And now… Jack was getting on his knees, his hands on Mark’s inner thighs, and there was Mark’s cock.

“Do you have a condom?”

Jack’s voice was rough.

“Right,” said Mark. “Sorry.”

And he was… pulling the condom out of his pocket - he’d kept the condom in his pocket, which was a bad idea, but it was probably just for the scene, so it was… it was okay.

Mark handed Jack the condom, and Jack carefully rolled it over Mark’s cock, then leaned forward, taking the head of Mark’s cock into his mouth. 

Mark moaned, a long, exaggerated sound, and Jack sucked harder, beginning to bob his head.

He wasn’t too fond of using condoms for blowjobs - he didn’t like the taste of latex much - but it was all part of the role play.

He sucked, bobbing his head, and he kept his hands on Mark’s thighs, kneading them gently.

His breath was hot, and Mark’s cock was hot and thick, as Jack just… bobbed his head, slurping.

He was like a character in a porno - just someone picked up from a bar, with a thousand dollars shoved into his clothes, as he sucked off… well, he couldn’t even pretend that Mark was some stranger, could he?

Mark was Mark, and Mark… Mark was being very polite.

He was holding on to his own knees, instead of putting his hands in Jack’s hair like he usually did, and he was rolling his hips carefully, gently.

“I want…,” Mark began.

“Mmm?”

Jack looked up at Mark, through his eyelashes.

There were rings of lipstick on Mark’s cock, the same deep, deep red.

“I want to fuck your ass,” Mark said, and his voice was thick. “Please. Please, can I fuck your ass?” 

“That’ll be another three thousand,” Jack said, picking a number out of thin air.

“Done,” Mark said, quick as a snap.

He reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a handful of money, not even bothering to count it.

He shoved it at Jack, and then he was… he wasn’t grabbing Jack, and Jack was grateful for that.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?”

Jack pulled the skirt of his dress up, and... yeah, there was his cock,hard in the panties, the head poking out.

“So badly,” Mark said, and it was practically a whine. “Please, let me… I want it so badly. I want to touch you so badly, please, please… please….”

“You can… you can hold my hips,” said Jack, and he reached between the two of them, as he straddled Mark, and he held Mark’s cock in his hand. “Oh, look at this lovely big thing. Are you sure it’s going to fit?”

Mark licked his lips, but he nodded.

He was still blushing very hard, and he was pulsing inside of Jack.

… thankfully, Jack had prepped himself beforehand - fucked himself open with the dildo that was now drying next to their bathroom sink.

And then he was… taking Mark’s shaft into his hand, squeezing it long and slow, and he was sliding down onto it.

Oh, that was… that was good.

Jack tilted his head back, and he moaned theatrically.

He could practically feel Marks’ eyes on him, climbing up and down his body like some small animal.

He squeezed around Mark’s cock, and he ground his hips forward, pressing his knees into Mark’s sides, as he began to bounce.

“You’re so… beautiful,” Mark said, and his voice was rough. 

He held on to Jack’s hips, and then he was… looking down.

“Can I jerk you off? Please? Can I touch your cock, please?”

“Another… another thousand.”

“Done. Done and done, please… keep taking it, please, let me… let me make you feel good, please….”

And then Mark was just… taking it in.

He was riding Mark, and he was holding on to Mark, clutching at Mark’s shoulders, and then he was breaking character, kissing Mark, and he was bouncing, he was… he was breathing Mark’s breath, and they were chest to chest, and he got makeup on Mark’s face, and then Mark was… Mark was cumming inside of him, a thick, hot load of ucm, filling up the condom, throbbing in Jack’s ass, and Jack… Jack sobbed.

“Oh,” said Mark. “Oh… um.”

“Um?”

“That was… that was very… oh,” said Mark. 

He looked slightly shell shocked. 

“Are you okay?”

“Great,” said Mark. “Can I make you cum?”

“... yes,” said Jack. “Yes, please, please, you feel so… oh….”

He came in Mark’s hand. 

He full on came, and it was a mes… oh, fuck. 

Oh, that was… he pressed his forehead against Mark’s.

“Hi,” Mark said, his voice quiet.

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” Mark said, and he flexed his cock inside of Jack.

Jack snorted, an explosive burst of sound, and he grinned at Mark. 

“How about you?”

“I’m good,” Jack said, “although… I want to wash all of the makeup off.” 

Mark made to grab Jack by the hips, but Jack covered Mark’s hands with his own.

“In a minute,” he said. “I’m… comfy here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? 
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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